Sunshine or bitter cold the air,
The pastor's work is always there.
He is often the object of scorn,
His labors with contempt adorned.
Yet, he never ceases to care,
Ever seeking man's eternal welfare.
At the end of the week
Sunday's service complete,
The pastor spent and weak,
Yet, strong in his love for the sheep,
And thankful to God for their keep.
The Lawyer's profession do not decry,
MD's in their field faithfully try.
Educators are great we agree,
And police officers are good to see.
They are all mighty fine,
Helping with problems of time,
But it is the faithful pastor,
Who warns of eternal disaster.
The worldly no eternal danger can see,
With them, life is but one great spree.
No hurdles in the race they run,
Evil they do not shun,
Their time spent in revel and fun,
Soon life on earth is over and done.
Then the hell they lament,
Our life on earth in pleasure spent,
To the faithful pastor we did not look,
And cared nothing for His Holy Book.
Divine wrath our hearts have rend,
God's pastors warn of this awful end.
Young men with souls so frail,
On a downward trek toward hell.
Young girls so fair of face,
Doing despite to the Master's grace.
The pastor calls, "O, reckless youth,
Behold Jesus, the Way, Life and Truth."
No man has more in his stores,
Than a pastor with a flock he adores.
In face of much struggle and strife,
He pursues the work of his life.
Upon the church he has often leaned,
And from them much strength gleaned.
Then one day by amazing and free grace,
The pastor beholds his Shepherd's face,
And is drawn into the Saviour's embrace.
Standing with the pastor at his right,
His precious flock, who walked in light,
Having escaped the dark and eternal night.
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